You great loggerhead of a dunce-says Master Lingo-spell the word again-B-i-r-Bur m-i-n-g-ming-Birming-h-a-m-ham, Birmingham-Oh, you stupid dunce,-I shall never beat any thing into that thick skull of yours! 'tis Brumidgum-I tell you once more-take that (cries) with your High down, &c. Oh! my dear-my adorable-my lovely, my angelic-Eliza-suffer me thou paragon of beautythou terrestrial charmer, to approach thee High down, &c. Then the soldier ripe for plunder, Breathing slaughter---blood and thunder. Kicks a dust up in a trice. And talks of shatter'd brains, Scatter'd limbs, and streaming veins. Fight and fly, All to fill, &c. Run or die, Helter shelter. Oh! such a bloody day; there was I marching along up to the knees in blood---Cannon balls flying about like---Cock-chaffers in a summer's evening---whiz! comes one in a direct line to me--but I being aware of him---I up with my broad ́sword, and cut it in two---one half flew into the air, and the t'other-- Sirrah an't your name John Day, All to fill, &c. Yes an't please your worship so they say; Pray did you not get the girl with child in the barn? Yes, an't please your worship, I tho't no harm. Why, you rascal do'e come rhymes ? here to make Yes, an't please your worship sometimes. Take this fellow away-take him out of my sight: That's what I wanted-so I wish you High down, &c. Then the slipper'd pantaloon, In life's dull afternoon; With spectacles on nose, Shrunk Shanks in youthful hose. His voice once big and round, Now whistling in the sound. Body bent, Vigour spent, Widdle waddle. All to fill, &c. Ah! Lord bless you all my dear children, many a long day I have travelled in the rough and smooth road of life-and do remember when.honesty and industry-were rewarded-but now bribery and corruption choak up the seeds of merit--but 'tisHigh down, &c. At last to end the play, Second childhood leads the way; So death among us pops, And down the curtain drops. Corps in ground, All to fill, &c. Glass goes round, Toast their Noses. High down, ho down, derry derry down, All to fill up this farsical scene O! " ALDERMAN GOBBLE. Tune-Heighol says Rowley." TOM GOBBLE was a grocer's son, He gave a ven'son dinner for fun, The servant usher'd the company in, The dinner is ready, quoth Tom, with a grin, So he tuck'd a napkin under his chin, With his handy dandy, bacon and gravy, Ah! ah! says Alderman Gobble. Then Betty the cook, she gave a squall, Poor John the footman has had a fall, With his handy dandy, bacon and gravy, So down the Alderman ran in a fright, And there sat John in a terrible plight, Was ever man so cruelly put on, Heigho! says Gobble; Get off from the meat you rascally glutton, Lord, Sir, says Betty, what a splash, 'Tis a monstrous bad rumbusticle crash, MON AT MESTER GRUNDY'S. GOOD law, how things are alter'd now, I'd use to stride about i' clogs, As thick as sides o' bacon; And little Peg, I lik'd so well, One day I met my cousin Ralph, "Why does t' forget since constant we "Why aye," says I, you clod get out, On nice thick porrage, and sweet milk, And wish'd such feasting, while I liv'd,* But, zounds, did yo' but see me now, Ecod, you'd stare like ony thing, At th' Mon at Mester Grundy's. Now I'm advanc'd fro'th' tail o' th' plough Like many a peer o' th' nation, I finds 'tis easy knowing how T' forget one's former station: Who knows but I may strut a 'squire, Wi' powder'd wig o' Sundays, Though now content to be no higher, Than th' Mon at Mester Grundy's. |